lucid dreams
by MirrorImage003
Summary: A collection of random oneshots and tumblr prompts that I'm just now getting around to posting here. All Zutara, any genre.
1. sleep talk

what's up, ff? it's been a hot minute... well, to kickstart things over here, this is the latest tumblr prompt i received and posted under my account 'zutaras-where-its-at.' it's short but sweet, enjoy!

[tumblr prompt: "Why do you only kiss me when I'm sleeping?"

a.k.a. zuko is not as stealthy as he thought.]

* * *

"Why do you only kiss me when I'm sleeping?"

Zuko halts mid-step, his heart stuttering painfully before immediately kickstarting again at an alarming pace.

He turns around only to see a pair of bright—if not drowsy—blue eyes staring back at him in the dark. Where she had appeared peacefully asleep like the rest of their group mere moments ago, Katara now sits up, brown curls creating a halo effect around her head in the light of the fire.

"What?" It comes out louder than he intended. Zuko winces, but everyone else remains still and unaware in their sleeping bags.

Katara lets out a frustrated puff of air, one hand impatiently tucking strands of hair out of her face.

"You always kiss me on the cheek right before you go to bed, but only when you think I fell asleep before you." She doesn't look at him as she says this, her eyes squinting at the space around his left shoulder. "At first, I thought you did that to everyone—or maybe just the girls, or something—," her eyes tentatively land back on his pale face, "but you only ever kiss _me_."

_I could deny it_, Zuko thinks. _I could tell her that she's delusional, that she must have dreamt that. Or I could say that I actually do kiss everyone on the cheek as some really bizarre Fire Nation custom. _

She takes his silence as confusion and gives him a dry look. "I'm a waterbender, Zuko. Falling asleep within the first hour of laying down while the moon is bright above me is like trying to push Appa through a cave."

Sokka rolls over on his mat, his loud snore making the two lucid benders cringe. Zuko hopes she'll realize this might not be the best time and he'll be able to make a swift getaway, but she only waits until Sokka's breathing settles back down into soft exhales before fixing him with a searching stare.

Resigned, Zuko swipes an exasperated hand over his face and turns to face her fully.

"Do you want me to stop?"

This apparently was not the answer she was expecting, and she splutters, shoulders sinking in surprise. "What?"

"Does it bother you? Do you want me to stop?"

She raises one dark eyebrow. "Stop kissing me on the cheek while I sleep?"

His cheeks burn steadily, but Zuko soldiers on. "Yes."

"I—Well, I don't—"

Katara attempts to backtrack, but Zuko's already in hot water, and if he has to suffer there, then she's coming in with him. He takes slow, measured steps towards where she's still sitting on the ground, his voice never raising above their muted tones.

"Tell me you want me to stop, and I will. Tell me that you don't like it, Katara, and it won't happen again."

It's as much of a promise as it is a question.

He watches her eyes widen—her mouth parting on a half-formed excuse—and he silently begs her to give him the permission he only just realized he's been appealing for all this time.

"I..." She licks her bottom lip. He blinks resolutely. "I don't hate it."

He's close enough now that if she were to reach out a hand, he'd be able to grasp it and help her up. The others still remain ignorantly asleep, their quiet snores disrupting the silence.

"What are you really trying to ask me then, Katara?"

She swallows, and this time his eyes flick down to follow the movement before he can think not to. When she speaks, it's barely a breath of a whisper.

"Why don't you ever kiss me when I'm awake."

He inhales, and then slowly—_too slow_—kneels down until their faces are inches apart in the light of the dying fire.

"Do you want me to?"

Her eyes don't leave his when she gives the smallest nod of her head, and he finally reaches out, rough hands framing her soft face. He leans in at an agonizingly slow pace, but it's worth it for the sight of her eyelashes fluttering shut and her mouth parting at the seam, for the feel of her face tipping up to meet his.

He pauses for just a moment, with just a sliver of space between their lips—just to drink in _her—_and her expression is so serene, so at peace, so _still_, that it's almost like every other time he stole a kiss against her soft skin while she slept.

But then her eyelids open just the slightest, an impatient huff of breath hitting his face, and then she's closing the distance herself. And Zuko can't help but smile against her lips, because unlike every other time, this time is real.


	2. bare bones

tumblr prompt: "Don't shut me out."

Zuko asks Katara to help him find Ursa, but when they do, it's nothing like what he had imagined.

* * *

He breathes out.

The bedsheet is on fire.

He had tried to keep it in, tried to control the tempest of emotions within him, but his hold on the reins slipped. And now his bed is on fire.

With a practiced hand, Zuko brings the smoldering fabric to a few simmering embers, mild enough that he can dunk them in his room's water basin and extinguish them for good.

He hopes that the innkeeper won't notice the missing sheet, but is prepared to pay a fine in the morning all the same.

As the lingering smoke begins to filter out the open window, Zuko sits carefully on one side of his stripped bed. And then, after a few moments of labored breaths, he slips off the edge and onto the floor, his hands holding his head as it hangs between his bent knees.

He doesn't know how long he sits there for, but eventually a soft rap on his door calls back his attention.

"Zuko?"

He grits his teeth against the cautious sympathy dripping from her voice.

"I...I could smell the smoke from my room, and I just wanted to check in on you. How—how are you doing?"

Something burns his throat, preventing him from speaking. Something like shame.

"I guess that's a pretty useless question right now. I'm sorry. I just..." Her defeated sigh is muffled by the heavy wooden door. "I just don't really know what else to say."

Her mother is dead, and he's the one upset. Upset just because his own perfectly healthy mother doesn't want to come home. Upset because she has a new life with new kids and a new family. Upset because a small, terrible part of him can't stop whispering that it would have been better if she actually had been dead.

"Zuko, please..." There's a soft thump as her forehead leans against his door. "Don't shut me out."

It's not until he opens the door and her face is a wet blur that Zuko even realizes that he is crying.

Her arms are strong as they pull him in, strong enough to feel like an anchor amidst the worst storm he's ever braved. And finally, he surrenders to the waves.

"She doesn't want me—I—" he chokes on his own tears, "I tried—I tried so hard, Katara, and none of it—none of it fucking mattered. Why doesn't it count? It should count—I don't understand why—" his fingers grip her hard enough to bruise, and his chin digs into the flesh of her shoulder, but she doesn't relent.

"It's not your fault, Zuko. It's not your fault." Her voice is watery in his scarred ear.

And he knows she understands what he cannot put into words. Because only another child of a self-sacrificing, martyr-made mother could ever understand the guilt that cuts the life from his veins. It's a rotten thing, to have equal parts self-righteousness and self-hatred warring in his bones.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She holds his face in her hands and kisses the space between his eyebrows. "I know, Zuko. I know."

He falls asleep like that—laying on the ruined bed with her strong body curled around his, her lips pressed against the skin of his forehead and his nose tucked into the hollow of her throat. Exhaustion steals the last of his consciousness, but it's a welcome relief from the raging of the storm.

And when he wakes in the morning, Katara is still there, still wrapped around him like she's trying to keep him from falling apart. Or perhaps, like she's putting him back together.

He isn't okay, not yet. His heart still aches and a bitter taste still stains his tongue. But, as he listens to her hushed snores fill the air around him and her lazy heartbeat tap a rhythm against his ear, Zuko knows that he is not alone.

They are not alone.

He breathes in.


	3. beat the heat

GUYS I AM ON A ROLL. I HAVENT WRITTEN THIS MUCH SINCE LIKE 2014.

[tumblr prompt: "Come over here and make me."

The Gaang takes a much needed vacation on Ember Island after the war. Post season 3. The kataang kiss/maiko reunion never happened.]

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

It's an obnoxiously hot day.

The whole group has dispersed across the beach property in an attempt to distract themselves from the beating sun. Katara can hear Toph and Sokka arguing about who gets the last moonpeach somewhere inside the house, and the last time she checked, Aang was sprawled out on the porch with one arm sluggishly bending the air around him to manufacture a breeze.

As for Katara, she's forgone most of her outer layers of clothing and decides that a swim at the beach is just what she needs.

She crosses paths with Suki on her way down to the shore. The older girl has also stripped to just her bindings, and her fair skin is tinted pink from the sun. Her metal fans, tied together at their handles, are slung over one shoulder.

"Hey, do you know where Sokka is?"

Katara nods and points to the house, too overheated to do anything else. Suki hums in thanks and continues up the hill.

When Katara reaches the beachfront, she can't help but blink. Zuko's prone, shirtless body glistens with sweat, his dao swords sprawled on the sand beside him.

"I thought you were taking a nap."

One golden eye slides open to regard her before shutting again. "I asked Suki to spar. Wanted to see if swords or fans would come out on top."

Katara grunts as she flops down next to him. She digs her toes into the sand and shields her eyes from the glare of the sun off the ocean waves.

"So?"

"Hm?"

"Which one came out on top?"

"Oh. Neither. It was pretty much a draw." He exhales and a flickering flame escapes his lips. "Plus, it was too hot to keep it up."

They sit like that for awhile, the sound of the waves and the parakeet-gulls only serving to emphasize the lazy mood.

But all too soon, Katara begins to feel antsy. Her hair keeps sticking to her sweat-slicked skin, and a thin coat of sand covers most of her body. She looks to her side where Zuko remains spread-eagled on the floor, his sharp features the perfect picture of relaxation.

A strong urge to ruin his peaceful countenance overcomes her.

With a flick of her wrist, a small jet of ocean water hits him on the cheek. She watches him scrunch up his aristocratic nose before he merely turns his face away from her. Another wave of her hand and he can't help but splutter as a larger jet splashes him again.

He wipes a hand over his face and shoots her a glare.

"Quit it."

Something playful glints in her eyes and she just splashes him again, this time on his bare chest.

"I'm serious, Katara." His voice is a low growl, but it lacks his usual bite.

She stands up, a grin beginning to curl her chapped lips.

"Oh, you're _serious_. I'm _really_ scared now."

She starts walking backwards towards the shoreline, flipping her thick hair over her shoulder. He rolls his eyes and lets his head thump back down onto the sand. But Katara can see the tension coiling in his muscles, like they're preparing to spring, and she knows that she's got him.

So, she lets a tall wall of water crash over his body.

Finally, he sits up, dark hair plastered to his face and spitting out salt water. By now, she's already calf-deep in the ocean, her knees bent in anticipation.

Zuko shoots her a dark look. "I said, cut it out."

"Come over here and make me."

She won't lie and say that the way he sizes her up in that moment doesn't make her stomach flip.

And suddenly, he's on his feet and charging at her, fists encased in flickering flames.

She's a little surprised that he immediately goes for a close-combat spar, but mentally shrugs. Less effort this way.

They block and strike and try their damn best to get one over on the other, but the fight remains at a stalemate. Zuko punches out with one fist, but Katara quickly catches it in a block of ice. He swings with his other arm before that too is frozen.

Katara smirks and prepares to deliver the final blow, but Zuko inhales and ducks underwater before she gets the chance.

Her eyes narrow, searching the water for his shadow, but the reflection of the sun off the waves keeps her from locating him. And right as she resolves to go in after him, a strong arm wraps around her stomach and tugs her under.

She yelps and gets a mouthful of seawater before she pushes against the ocean floor and half-kicks, half-bends them both back to the surface.

They burst to the top, Zuko's arm still caging her back to his front. She coughs and lamely tries to shove her elbow into his head, but she's laughing too hard and her limbs have all but turned to jello from the exercise.

She hears his chuckle by her ear and twists to catch a glimpse of his rare smile before it disappears.

His bad eye is closed against the water droplets slipping down his forehead, but the other is alight with mirth, and his cheeks are flushed from the exerted effort of their spar.

She laughs again, the tip of her pink tongue pinched between her teeth, and raises her free hand to poke him on the nose.

"Okay, okay, I forfeit." She almost regrets it when he releases her to float a few feet away. "But you gotta admit that it feels nice to get in the water."

He scoffs and a little spew of fire carries on his breath until it fizzles out an inch or two away from her face. She sticks her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, whatever. I was already tired from sparring with Suki, and now I'm exhausted." He relaxes in the water, turning to float on his back.

"Aw, is poor baby Zuko all tuckered out?"

"Yes. Yes, he is. In fact, I think I'm too tired to keep swimming. I'll just go ahead and blurbaghab—"

A startled laugh escapes her when he lets himself sink underneath the waves, garbling the last of his words. She rolls her eyes and freezes a thick sheet of ice underneath him, effectively lifting his body back up to the surface.

He spreads out on his makeshift raft and rolls his head to the side to look at her, his cheeks puffed out. Zuko purses his lips and water streams out from his mouth, hitting her square on her nose. She ducks under the spray and hoists herself onto the block next to him.

"Gross, you Drama Queen."

He snorts, and watches her wiggle across the ice into a comfortable position. He has a smug grin on his pale pink lips, a hint of teeth flashing at her. And with his shaggy hair poking out at all angles from the sticky saltwater, and the sun illuminating all the different shades of gold and brown in his irises, it suddenly hits her how boyishly handsome he really is.

Her stomach clenches from more than just the cold ice against her skin. She quickly hides her face in the crook of her elbow, and misses the soft look that he gives her.

Zuko closes his eyes, face turning back towards the still oppressively hot sun, and let's himself unwind.

They wake up two hours later when Aang and Sokka sneak under their ice-raft and flip them back into the water.

Needless to say, their evening does not remain peaceful for long.


	4. twenty questions

tumblr prompt: "He's a bad kisser."

[set during "The Ember Island Players" / the conversation we all wanted to happen]

This is mostly fluff and dialogue and bad flirting, and mainly written to satisfy my need for Zuko to be made aware of Katara's past relationships.

ALSO. I need you guys to know that there are literally 20 questions in this fic and I didn't even plan that. Please be as impressed as I am at the coincidence of it all.

* * *

He doesn't really know _why_ he edged Aang out to sit next to her. He doesn't really wanna think about it. Call him a coward, but the realization waiting for him at the end of that particular rabbit trail isn't one he's necessarily prepared to confront.

What he _does_ know, however, is that he possesses incredible hearing, even with his scorched ear. And when the two actors on stage portraying Jet and Katara begin to incessantly flirt with one another, Zuko almost chokes on his spit when he hears Katara mutter under her breath beside him.

"He's a bad kisser."

Zuko shoots her a bewildered look and hisses, "_What_?"

She startles, apparently not realizing she had spoken aloud. "I—uh, what?"

Zuko whips his head back to stare at the actors, who are now grossly entwined with one another, and he can't unsee the image of the real Jet and Katara locked in an embrace.

"You and—"

"Shut up!" She cuts him off with a harsh whisper, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Her eyes flick to the others behind them, but they're too busy watching the entrance of their own characters. "Just shut up."

"But he was insane!"

She blinks, then leans closer, dark brows scrunching together. "Wait. How do _you_ know Jet?"

Before he can answer, Toph punches Katara in the shoulder and tells them to quit gossiping.

Zuko crosses his arms and tries not to glare through the rest of the play. His foul mood only worsens as the night wears on. Intermission comes and goes. The cringeworthy moment between his actor and Katara's passes with discomfort from both parties and light teasing from the others. The traumatic end goes up in literal flames, and finally, they're free to leave.

The night air is cool and dry against his skin, and Zuko takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the convulsing fire within him. Sokka and Toph attempt to cheer up the group, and even succeed in bringing out a few laughs from the others, but the mood refuses to shift beyond that.

The moment they step foot in the beach house, everyone disperses to their respective rooms. No one seems up to any games or conversation anymore.

Zuko lays in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wood panels above him. His mind is still racing and his head feels like it might explode, so once the noise of people moving around in the house finally dies down, he throws on a shirt and makes his way to the kitchen. If he's lucky, he'll be able to scrounge up some of his family's old alcohol in one of the cupboards.

Zuko is in the midst of cursing at all the empty bottles of wine and whiskey he finds in the pantry when she walks in.

"What are you doing?"

He jerks up on reflex, smacking his head against the shelf he's leaning over and curses again. Apparently, his incredible hearing only picks up on disturbing and uncomfortable information from his enemy-turned-friend, but is useless when that aforementioned friend actually sneaks up on him.

Zuko throws a look over his shoulder to see Katara standing in the doorway looking mildly amused.

"I'm trying to get drunk, but it looks like I'm shit out of luck."

She snorts and walks to the wicker basket sitting on the counter. Her nimble fingers glide over the assortment of fruit before she picks up a ripe looking mango. Her other hand grabs the small knife beside the basket before she's walking out the way she came.

"Well, I'm going to get some fresh air. Have fun."

He stares after her for a moment, rubbing at the bump that's beginning to form on the back of his head. Making up his mind, he finally ditches the disappointing liquor cabinet, grabs an ash banana, and follows her to the porch.

She's already slicing the mango into halves when he joins her. She doesn't look up when he sits down next to her, but she does tip her head up in acknowledgment.

He watches her shave off a piece of the mango and stick it in her mouth, watches the pale juice slip down her fingers and over her wrist. He blinks hard and focuses on peeling his banana. They eat their fruit like that, just sitting on the front steps in a mutually maintained silence.

Zuko would even go so far as to call it peaceful. That is, until she takes it upon herself to violate the quiet mood.

"Did you really dump Mai in a letter?"

It's so far from what he expected her to say that a sharp laugh manages to escape him. "Yeah. I mean, I wasn't exactly trying to _dump_ her, but she took it that way anyways."

"What _were_ you trying to do?"

Zuko sighs and throws his banana peel into the shadowed bushes at the bottom of the steps with a little more force than necessary. "I don't know. I—I guess I just didn't want to drag her into my mess. Things were already complicated between us, even after I returned to the Fire Nation. In a way, I thought I was doing her a favor by leaving without saying goodbye. She doesn't deserve to suffer from my choices."

"Well, it sounds like she's suffering anyways."

He bristles at that, voice growing cold. "Don't act like you know her or our relationship. Everything I did was—"

"Zuko, relax." Her eyes are wide, caught off guard by his biting tone. "I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I can imagine how she feels—knowing that you're doing what you think is best, but she can't help you. That's probably a tough spot to be in."

Slowly, Zuko let's the tension seep out from his shoulders, resuming his previously relaxed state. "Yeah."

An apologetic smile tilts her lips. "In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best time to sympathize with her side. I'm sorry."

He shrugs and fiddles with the hem of his tunic. "You're right though. Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up hurting someone."

From the corner of his eye, he sees her shift a little, her body turning just the slightest bit more towards him.

"Look, Zuko. If the right thing was always the easiest thing to do, then nobody would struggle to make the right choices." She hesitates for just a second before continuing. "Do you regret leaving her and coming to join us?"

He feels his heart beating slow and steady against his rib cage, and before he can really process the question, his answer is slipping out with a confidence he hadn't realized he possessed. "No, I don't. If I had stayed, a part of me would have hated myself for ignoring my destiny, and I know that I eventually would have hated her for it too."

She reaches over and briefly squeezes his arm before letting go again. The skin there tingles in the seconds after her hand withdraws. "Then you're okay. You can't control anyone else's feelings, only your own. Mai is strong. She'll be alright."

_Uncle would love you_, Zuko thinks.

He doesn't realize he's said this out loud until she laughs and shakes her head.

Suddenly, he remembers a part of the play that had him puzzled.

"Were you really the Painted Lady?"

Her laughter abruptly cuts off and she sheepishly tugs on a lock of hair. "Only for a little bit. The part about healing the people and cleaning the river is true, but the playwright added about twelve more explosions than there actually were. Plus, I had Aang, Sokka, and Toph to help me out."

"But did you actually destroy a Fire Nation factory?"

A defensive look shutters her face, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Yes, but the factory was polluting their water! And the soldiers from the factory were—"

"Do you wanna be my partner sometime?"

"—taking all the medicine from—what?"

He tries valiantly not to laugh at her incredulous stare.

"Do you want to be my partner sometime?" He leans back on his hands, legs straightening out in front of him. "The playwright got a lot of things wrong. That time Aang got captured—Zhao was the one who caught him. I was the Blue Spirit that broke him out."

She gapes at him, lips struggling to form words.

He grins. "I just think that the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady might make a good team."

Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she lets out a soft "huh" and squints her eyes at him.

"So...Between chasing after us and commanding a squad of soldiers, you somehow found the time to be a street vigilante?"

"Between running away from me and helping the Avatar save the world, you somehow found the time to make out with a teenage terrorist?"

It slips out before he can stop it, and a pang of guilt sweeps through him. He winces, afraid that he's just ruined a perfectly civil conversation because of his irrational curiosity (jealousy).

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just—I wasn't—"

His rambling cuts off when she starts to laugh. It's a little brittle and a lot loud, but it's laughter all the same.

She stops, smiling ruefully up at the night sky. "Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty stupid when you put it that way."

"It's not stupid."

She lets out a long sigh and flops onto her back, arms splayed haphazardly above her head. "No, it is. I mean, in my defense, he was one of the first boys my age that I'd pretty much ever met, and he did happen to be extremely charming. That was also back when life didn't feel like it was always on the cusp of the end of the world. But all of that...I mean, the kissing and stuff...it's all just a waste of time right now."

Zuko doesn't quite know what to say to that, an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment swirling his stomach.

"Surprisingly, he kisses better than Jet. But only by a little."

"Who?"

"Aang."

Zuko's eyes almost bug out of their sockets for what feels like the millionth time tonight. He scrambles to twist around and look at her. "You've kissed _Aang_?"

She hardly moves, eyes trained on the stars stretching above them. "Well, _he_ kissed _me_. Twice, actually."

There's a beat, and then Zuko is bending over his knees with his head in his hands, half-groaning, half-chuckling.

"Of course he did."

"Don't laugh at me!"

"No, no! I'm not laughing at you, I swear."

She covers her face with her hands and Zuko leans back on one elbow, stifling his chuckles.

"I'm not laughing at you. I just find the situation kind of ironic."

One droll eye peeks out at him from between her fingers. "Ironic how?"

He blanches, realizing too late that this conversation has taken a rapid turn for a topic that he has shoved (guiltily, shamefully) deep into the recesses of his mind. Stuttering, Zuko gestures emptily with one hand.

"I just meant—well it's—," a half-grunt, half-squeak escapes his throat and Zuko would very much like to die right about now, "I'm just saying that—"

She isn't covering her face anymore, so he can see the delicate lift of her left eyebrow in all its judgmental glory. He looks away.

"I just think your taste in men is interesting."

He continues to avoid her eyes, but he can still feel her searching gaze on the side of his face.

"That's not what you were going to say."

"What? Yes it was."

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Zuko, you're a terrible liar. What were you really going to say? Why do you think it's so ironic that Aang and I have kissed?"

The logical part of his brain warns him that telling her the truth would be a very large mistake, strictly cautions him that it would only complicate their hard-earned friendship. But the other part of his brain—the part that fully soaks in her un-ruffled, overly-composed appearance and longs to just smudge it with a streak of his own insecurity and embarrassment—that part quickly bashes the logical part in the face with a tsungi horn and leaves it to bleed out in a ditch.

"I find it so ironic, _Katara_, because a genocidal homeless kid and a twelve year old monk have managed to accomplish what I've been wanting to do for ages now."

She blinks, and Zuko feels the sharp sting of a blush crawling up his neck, but the damage is already done and he refuses to be the first to look away.

A string of emotions shifts like shadows over her face—confusion surprise embarrassment. Realization.

Her lashes flutter, her lips part, and her eyelids lower to half-mast. Zuko has to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

"You," her breath skates across his face (when did they get so close?), "want to kiss me?"

He doesn't trust his voice at the moment, giving her a jerky nod instead and then immediately wanting to sink into the floor.

But she hardly seems to notice his jittery body language. Rather, a slow grin curls at her mouth, and a cheeky glint makes her eyes sparkle up at him in a way that warns of danger. He doesn't know why, but it turns him on a little.

"Well, clearly, you have quite the challenge waiting for you in the kissing department. How do I know you won't be just as terrible of a kisser as Jet and Aang? Really, I don't know if this is worth the risk for me."

His nervousness begins to fade with her teasing, and he lets out a huff of laughter before doing what he does best. He rises to her bait.

"I might just be the best goddamn kisser in the whole Fire Nation, and you would never have the privilege of experiencing that unless you kiss me."

Katara guffaws and levels him with an appraising look, her face tilting just the slightest bit up.

"Oh, so now it's _me_ who's kissing _you_?"

He gives her a sage look, hair falling across his brow and tangling with his dark lashes. "That's right. You better seize this rare opportunity before it slips right through your fingers. I have plenty of other suitors waiting for me, you know."

Her snort nearly pulls a chuckle out of him, but he manages to maintain some semblance of a straight face.

"Plenty of other suitors, huh?"

"Plenty. Appa is the next on my list."

One of his long fingers lightly coils around one of her dark, thin ones. With their faces mere inches apart, Zuko can see the mirth bubbling in the blue of her eyes mixing with something even brighter, something he can't put into words but he can feel in his bones.

"Well, I wouldn't want to be shown up by Appa, now would I?"

When she finally presses her lips to his, Zuko swears that a Katara-shaped hole has just been carved into the puzzle that is his fate.


	5. sticks & stones (will break your bones)

tumblr prompt: "Who gave you that black eye?"

modern/high school au. zuko just wants to know who he has to beat up for beating katara up.

* * *

"Who gave you that black eye?"

Zuko's head jerks up from where he was bent over his cafeteria lunch tray. Sure enough, Katara has just sat down at their group's corner table with one eye swollen shut and purple around the edges. Something ugly burns in the pit of his stomach, something like rage.

"None of your business, Sokka." Her voice is firm, but she refuses to meet any of their gazes. She shoves her own lunch tray in her brother's direction and hunches over to hide her bruised face in her folded arms on the table.

"Are you okay, Katara? That looks like it really hurts." Aang leans over, attempting to examine her now hidden black eye. "If someone attacked you, we should go report them to Dean Pakku."

A muffled huff answers him. "Don't say anything to Old Man Pakku. He'll make it into a way bigger deal than it needs to be."

"The Dean doesn't have to get involved. No one from the school does. Just tell me who did it." Zuko can't quite keep the dark edge out of his tone, and everyone at the table holds their breath because they know Zuko, and they know that he's fiercely protective of his own.

Slowly, she raises her head to peak up at him above her arms. He's surprised, and a little hurt, to see that her one good eye is carefully guarded.

Her expression shudders, and the scrutinizing look in her eye is swiftly replaced by a warm smile that's only a little forced.

"Don't worry about it, Zuko. Believe it or not, the other person looks a lot worse."

Then she turns to nag Sokka about ordering his graduation gown and cap, and while everyone knows she's purposefully avoiding an explanation, the conversation hesitantly returns to normal.

But Zuko isn't about to let it go that easily.

After sixth period Chemistry, Zuko leaves his senior lacrosse buddies to search out Katara in the junior hall. He has her schedule taped to the inside of his locker (she has his pinned up with a magnet in the shape of a sunflower) so he knows she's just getting out of Honors Precalculus.

He rounds the corner and sees her talking to some girl from her class, and before she can protest, he's hooked an arm around her shoulders and dragging her into an empty classroom.

"Zuko, what the hell? I was trying to get the test corrections from—"

His hands reach up to grab her soft face, abruptly cutting her off. She hisses when he gently prods at the corner of her bruise.

"Who hit you." It's not really a question.

Her lips purse, the dimple on her right cheek glaring up at him. She doesn't look at him. It pisses him off.

"Katara, who fucking hit you?"

She grimaces and jerks her chin out of his grip. "I already told you and the others, it doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter? You can't even see out of one eye and you're telling me it doesn't matter?"

She finally meets his gaze, her one eye narrowed in a glare. "Look, Mrs. Saito already sent me to Pakku and we worked it out with the other person. I only have to go to a few detentions and I can still run Prom committee. So yes, it doesn't fucking matter."

It's Zuko's turn to glare. He crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs. "Like I give a shit about detention or Prom committee—I want to know why the hell you fought someone in the first place."

"Why do you even need to know?!"

"Because, Katara! Because you've never been one to get into fights before, and suddenly you just magically have a black eye in the middle of the day? You're one of my best fucking friends and some piece of shit took a swing at you! And I don't understand why you're trying to keep this such a big fucking secret anyways." His voice rings against the brick walls, but he can't bring himself to calm down.

Sure, everyone in their group has had their fair share of secretive moments, but they've all made sure to tell each other the important things. And if not everyone else, he and Katara have always understood each other better than the others, and they've never kept secrets. At least, not the secrets that count.

So this whole 'it doesn't matter' thing? Really not fucking with it.

He steps closer, making a conscious effort to unclench his jaw. "Katara, you already know I would never judge you for anything. Tell me what happened."

For a moment, a guilty look sweeps through her form, sagging her shoulders and twisting her fingers in her backpack straps. But then, she shakes her head and straightens her back, throwing him one last warning glare.

"Just drop it, Zuko."

He stares after her, watching her long braid whip out the door, and tries not to take it personally.

—

The next morning in Lit, Zuko scrawls a did she tell you? on a piece of scrap paper and slides it over to Sokka.

The other boy furrows his brows as he unfolds the note before quickly scratching something onto the paper with a pencil that has its eraser half-chewed off.

yeah. can't tell you tho.

what? why not?

not my place. ask her later once she cools off. she'll probably tell you then.

Zuko scowls and takes the time to sketch out a pretty decent middle finger with his pen before passing it back.

Sokka snickers and doesn't bother to reply.

It isn't until third period that he begins to piece it all together.

He's sitting in the back corner of the classroom attempting to ignore Jet's newest story about some sophomore girl he supposedly scored with over the weekend when a senior girl he sort-of knows walks in.

She's got two black eyes and a split lip.

His face goes slack as the teacher starts roll call and the girl shuffles to an empty desk and roughly sits down.

"Geez, what the hell happened to Rae?" Jet hadn't meant for anyone but Zuko to hear, but he was never one for subtlety. Almost on cue, the class swivels as one to stare at the girl.

Whispers circulate through the students, and Zuko manages to catch Katara's name among the hushed voices.

The girl slumps further down in her chair and resolutely ignores her peers. The teacher snaps at the class to quiet down and Zuko spends the rest of the period counting down the seconds until the bell dismisses them.

When it finally does, he shoves his books into his tattered backpack, brushes off Jet's questioning shout, and hurries to catch up with the girl.

She's halfway down the hall with another girl by her side when Zuko cuts them off.

"Hey, I need to ask you something."

The girl—Rae—looks startled to see him before something like panic flits across her black and blue face. She tightens her arms around the books she's clutching to her chest and attempts to side-step him. He mirrors her.

"Leave me alone." Her voice comes out a little shaky and Zuko's eyes narrow.

"Not until you tell me why you and Katara got into a fistfight."

She glares up at him but he can make out the turbulent fear just beneath her aggressive front. "I don't have to tell you anything. Now leave me alone."

Others have begun to gather in a loose circle around them. Zuko prickles under the unwanted attention. Not wanting to cause a scene, he reluctantly lets her pass. She ducks her head and hastily elbows her way through the crowd, her friend right on her heels.

At the last minute, Zuko's hand clutches the second girl's shoulder. She jumps and turns to pin him with an angry glare.

"What the fuck?"

"Look, I just want to know why they fought, okay?"

She shrugs his hand off and sneers. "Why don't you ask your fucking girlfriend?"

Zuko frowns. "She's not my girlfriend."

The friend let's out a mocking laugh. "Well, you better tell her that." She studies him behind hostile grey eyes for a moment before finally scoffing. "She went off on Rae like a fucking psychopath over some stupid joke about you. Really, you two are made for each other."

With that, she marches after Rae and Zuko is left feeling a little lost in the quickly emptying hallway.

—

Surprisingly, he doesn't have to go looking for her this time.

When school gets out, he takes his time saying bye to some of his friends for the weekend and organizing the books in his locker before heading out to his old beat up Toyota at the back of the parking lot.

Sure enough, she's sitting on the hood of his little blue truck waiting for him.

Katara looks up at the sound of his footsteps, and he can just make out her hesitant smile.

He stops in front of her, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Your eye looks a little better today. Does it still hurt?"

She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear and shakes her head. "No. Well, a little, but not as bad as before."

He nods, not sure what to say, and hates this tense silence that fills more and more with all the feelings he cannot put into words. He's about to comment on something stupid, like how her Prom committee is going, when she sighs.

"Look, Zuko. I'm really sorry about yesterday." She scrunches up her nose and rubs at the tops of her thighs with her palms. "I didn't mean to take it out on you or anything. I was just embarrassed and upset, and I didn't really know how to talk to you about it, because—"

"Because the fight was about me." The words blurt out before he can stop them, and her eyes widen, startled.

"Well...well, yeah. How did you know that?"

Zuko goes for a casual shrug, but it comes out as more of a spasm. "I overheard some of the seniors talking about it."

She levels him with a skeptical stare and he holds his ground for all of three seconds before sheepishly grinning.

"Okay, I may have cornered Rae after class and forced her to tell me. But in my defense, she looked like she'd gotten run over by a truck and dragged around for three blocks. How could I not figure it out?"

To his relief, she chuckles a little under her breath and her spine relaxes.

"Yeah, I should've guessed you wouldn't have given it up that quickly." She pauses for a moment before reaching out and grabbing his wrist. "I didn't want to tell you what happened, because I didn't...I didn't want you to have to think about what they said for even a second, Zuko. The things they said—they weren't worth your time."

Zuko is quiet, but his hand slowly lifts to thumb gently at the skin at the edge of her bruise. "But they were worth yours?"

Her soft exhale skims across the inside of his wrist, and there's an almost ashamed look filling the blue of her eyes.

"I just got so mad. They weren't even talking to me, just walking right by me in the bathroom, but when I heard her say—" she cuts herself off, jaw clicking shut. "When I heard her talking like she knew the first damn thing about you... I don't know. I've never been that angry before. I just wanted to make her shut up."

Unconsciously, Zuko steps closer to her until her knees are just shy of bracketing his waist. "What did she say?"

She eyes him carefully, as if to ask whether he really wants to know, but he merely holds her gaze, face serious and steady.

The skin around her mouth tightens and a slow burn of rage simmers in her pupils.

"She said she thinks you raped your sister and that's why she went crazy and your dad burned your face, and that your mom left because she was ashamed."

A coldness spreads from the back of Zuko's head to the tips of his fingers, making him tingle all over.

It doesn't matter what I do or how I act. He thinks. People will always only see my scar.

Vaguely he's aware of Katara hopping down from her perch on his truck and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She's murmuring something to him but he doesn't really hear her.

Slowly, he settles his hands on her waist and gently pushes her away.

"I'm so sorry, Zuko." There are tears wetting her eyelashes into thick clumps. "They shouldn't have—They don't know what the hell they're saying. Rae is an idiot, and I'm so sorry I even gave her so much attention. She's not worth it, and I made it a way bigger deal than it needed to be. I was just—I mean, I just couldn't not say anything. But I swear, I didn't mean to start a fight, and I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'm sorry. I—"

He thinks it's about time he cut off her nervous rambling, so he leans forward and kisses the crown of her head. She inhales, stopping mid-apology, and stares unseeingly at the hollow of his pale throat. She can see his pulse jumping against his thin skin, and it calms her.

"Thank you, Katara."

They stand there in the abandoned parking lot until their hearts are beating in sync and they begin to feel a little less alone.


	6. teacher crush

[tumblr prompt: "He's pampering me, let him be."

a.k.a. high school teacher au]

* * *

"Hey, I was gonna get you extra pickles since I know you like them, but the cafeteria was completely—"

Zuko stops mid-sentence in the doorway to her classroom, a few potato chips sliding off of the paper plate in his left hand onto the tiled floor.

"Oh, hi, Mr. Tanaka!"

His sun-dappled eyes narrow before he can stop himself. The bald, loud kid from his third period History class is standing on the other side of her desk smiling happily at him.

Zuko's quick gaze takes in the pretty Literature teacher sitting calmly at her desk and the paper plate with a neat, handmade turkey sandwich already set before her. It has extra pickles.

"Hey, Zuko." Katara smiles at him, cerulean eyes alight with amusement. "Aang here was just bringing me some lunch from the cafeteria. Isn't that sweet?"

Zuko nearly grimaces, but he straightens from his place by the door and awkwardly fumbles with the two full plates of food in his hands (one for him and one for her), trying desperately to think of a way to hide them.

"How thoughtful." It comes out more reproachful than he'd meant it to, but the kid is unfazed, cheeks dusting pink and absurdly large eyes fixated on Katara.

Aang smiles brightly, whipping his near-neon yellow backpack off and scrambling to open the zipper. He rummages around for a moment before triumphantly presenting a shiny, ruby-red apple from its depths. "I got you this too, Ms. Nanuq."

_Jesus Christ_, Zuko internally groans.

Katara only smiles warmly and takes the apple from his proffered hand. "You shouldn't have, Aang. This is quite the feast. You're not trying to bribe me for a better grade on next week's test, are you?"

The glare off of the kid's perfectly shaved head nearly blinds Zuko when he shakes his head vigorously.

"Of course not, Ms. Nanuq." He shyly fidgets with the hem of his blue and green striped shirt. "Just wanted to do something nice for my favorite teacher."

It's a double hit to Zuko's pride as both the kid's History teacher and, apparently, his contender for the pretty Literature teacher's attention.

"Well, thank you, Aang. It'll make grading all these papers during my lunch break much more enjoyable." She winks and the kid nearly blinds him _again_ with the sheer wattage of his grin.

"See you Monday, Ms. Nanuq!" Aang practically vibrates with energy as he whirls around and heads towards the door. Zuko shifts a little to make room for the kid to leave. As he's slipping out of the classroom, Aang innocently comments, "Wow, Mr. Tanaka. You must be really hungry if you're eating _two_ lunches. See you next week!"

Zuko stares in horrified disbelief at the space the kid disappeared from.

_Aang: 1_

_Zuko: 0_

He makes a mental note to flunk the kid on his next pop quiz.

From behind him, Katara snickers. He turns to give her a half-hearted glare.

"Shut up. Isn't it inappropriate to fraternize with a student?"

"Please. Aang is harmless."

Zuko grunts, ambling over to set down the two plates and drag a chair towards her desk. "'Harmless' my ass."

The smirk that curls her blush-pink lips somehow fills him with both intrigue and embarrassment.

"He's pampering me, let him be." She quirks an eyebrow at his sandwich plates. "Is one of those for me?"

She reaches over to drag one towards her, but Zuko slaps his hand on the edge of the plate and gathers it to himself.

He sniffs. "No. These are mine, thank you very much."

Katara rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair. "Oh really?"

"Really."

She feigns disinterest and picks up a pickle wedge from the plate the kid gave her. "Well, thank goodness for Aang, otherwise I would've starved this lunch break."

Zuko kicks up one long, lean leg to rest on the edge of her neat desk, ignoring the dirty look she shoots him. He grabs the apple and raises it to the light, scrutinizing it.

"This apple is bruised. Guess Aang doesn't think his favorite teacher deserves a crisp apple."

She flicks a chip at him. "Oh yeah, and what did he get you, again?"

"Irrelevant."

"You're just jealous because I'm his favorite teacher and you're not."

Zuko hesitates for the briefest of seconds before he slants her a simmering look from the corner of his eyes, apple still held just in front of his face.

"That's not why I'm jealous of him."

And then he bites into the apple, holding her surprised gaze.

She blinks. Then swallows. Then diverts her attention to the stack of papers in front of her.

_Aang: 1_

_Zuko: 1_

He watches her grade papers for a while, silently cataloguing the way her fingers move as they flip pages and mark writing errors, the way she chews lightly on the left corner of her bottom lip when she concentrates.

He finishes one whole sandwich in the time it take for her to finish half of hers.

Katara's in the middle of scrawling down some student's essay grade in her book when he finally works up the courage to interrupt her.

"You wanna grab a drink with me tonight?"

Her red pen stills, but she doesn't look up at him. "I don't know, Zuko."

"What, so some teenage kid can pamper you but I can't?" It comes out teasing, but he means it.

She runs her tongue over her top teeth, then sets down her pen and stares at him.

"You." Her tone is dry, testing. "You want to pamper me?"

Zuko nearly loses his resolve under her assessing stare, but he'll be damned if that bald kid proves to have a bigger set of balls than him.

"If you'd let me, yes." He leans forward, resting his elbows on her desk. "Or, if you'd prefer, I could buy you a crisp, unbruised apple instead."

She holds her indifferent expression for one more beat before a reluctantly entertained smile enlightens her sharply beautiful face.

Her eyes flick over his face down to his hands, then back up. When she reaches over to grab the apple from his plate and takes a slow bite into the juicy fruit, Zuko has to suppress a shiver.

"There's that cop bar, across from Omashu Square. Meet me there at ten?"

_Aang: 1_

_Zuko: 1 _

_Katara: 1_

The next morning, as he groggily takes in the head of messy curls snoring softly on his bare chest, Zuko decides that he needs a new point system.


End file.
